


Reminders

by Luna_Cat16



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Cat16/pseuds/Luna_Cat16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A oneshot that's kind of like a sequel/aside for Twisted Elysium. Sometimes, retrospection isn't a good thing, especially when you're forced to think over mistakes you already realize you've made.</p><p>contains excessive navel-gazing, mirror abuse, and you should probably read F/TE before reading this, and expect some kinda sorta spoilerish info and sixty thousand assumptions i made. also features matou kariya in a roundabout way, and a guest appearance from gilgamesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandorian_Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandorian_Gray/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fate/Twisted Elysium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/625351) by [Pandorian_Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandorian_Gray/pseuds/Pandorian_Gray). 



> fun fact the word document for this is titled 'hello mirror my old friend'

_“Are you going to be happy with him?” You spoke cautiously, as if every word was a landmine. Not too hesitant, lest she think there was something wrong. Not too incredulous, lest she think you were mocking her. Not too quick or expressive, lest she figure out just how_ worried _you are. Your eyes must betray it though -- you can practically see the widened pupils and watering up yourself. You don’t want her to marry him. God, anything in the world but_ him _._

_But she looks up at you and smiles that sweet, gentle smile she always seems to pull out when you’re in your worst moods, and for a moment you’re able to feel relieved. “I will, Kariya. I know it.” You smile back, and give a slight sigh of relief, but your eyes haven’t changed._

_She’ll be happy now, but you know it won’t last. The man she’ll marry is…_

 

A prick, a stuck-up dandy, a monster, just like the rest of them. _A magus_. Yes, he supposed he was all of those. But why did he keep pounding it into his head?

The bathroom seemed to become a regular haunt these past few days. With most of the house occupied by either his Master, Saber’s Master (specifically the room she rested in, in her case), or the horrid man himself, Tokiomi was left with few places he actually wanted to stay in. Being around either of them was unpleasant, a reminder of his own past stupidity.

It didn’t help that they’d remind him of what he currently was, either.

He stared into the mirror, another acquaintance of his these days. He didn’t understand why, really. There was nothing to check, no upkeep he could do. Heroic Spirits had no need for things like shaving, and even if they did, he probably would have given up on that a couple of days ago. No, the emotion he felt rising up in him was nothing more than pure disgust – and regret.

Was it odd to be fascinated by one’s own downfall, and hate it at the same time? Even a dying man didn’t look like this. His hair was almost white, and felt coarse and brittle to his fingers. His beard had the hint of pink streaks from washed out blood. His skin had paled, and shadows graced his cheeks and the area under his eyes. The eye that stared back at him was dull and hollow, while the other…

He couldn’t help but scowl at the mere thought of focusing on it. The wound had not healed; it had spread. Lesions covered the left side of his face like a sinister web, and seemed intent only on spreading. It didn’t look so much like a gash anymore, but rather something else.

 _It was like him_.

As if on cue, something began to move, raising the skin on his face and forcing him to look away. A wave of nausea came over him, and his right hand flew to his mouth, a reflexive action these days. He waited, but the nausea subsided, if only for this time. The bloodstains over the front of his clothes indicated other, failed attempts, though he still kept the outfit on. Why change it, if it was only going to get soiled again, and his left hand had already lost enough motor skills to make the mere act of getting dressed a challenge, and like hell he was going to settle for anything less than button downs – he had given up on dignity, but he still had standards.

Besides, Gilgamesh hated it. ‘You look like more of a filthy mongrel than usual.’ His gaze held disdain instead of amusement that time, as if saying that he wouldn’t accept his Servant looking like a madman. In response, Tokiomi simply shot him a dirty look and walked – no, stalked off. Walking wasn’t an appropriate term anymore. He could barely hold his back up straight, and his gait had started feeling staggered somehow. He was being immature and he knew it, but he found himself caring far less about that than he used to.

After all, madman was an appropriate descriptor for him.

 

 

He had thought the living room was empty, and entered it in hopes of getting solace in a place without mirrors. However, a few steps in, and he became aware of another presence. There, in the far corner, he could see a dark figure. “Kirei?” The question was asked with obvious spite; he knew this man. But then, a step closer, and his features became more defined. A plain black outfit. A younger face, which he couldn’t help but think was untouched by the same malice he was used to seeing in Saber. Shorter hair that hadn’t grown into that godawful mullet.

Tokiomi’s face grew red and flushed with mortification, and he had turned around and walked away as quickly as he could from that hallucination. His body burned with shame for even acknowledging it, and all the time something inside him was writhing. If he had to place the feeling it gave off, he’d say it was _laughing_.

 

 

Of course, he knew that it was laughing. He knew what was inside of him. _You’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you? You’d enjoy seeing me stoop to your level._ Kariya was toying with him, destroying his body, his mind, and flooding him with memories he had never wanted or needed. Perhaps he was being paranoid, perhaps suddenly gaining bits and pieces of his sad life story was simply a consequence of their unique situation, but he couldn’t help but place blame.

Otherwise, what else would he do? Honestly, he wasn’t sure he would be able to even live without a scapegoat. The aching pain that boiled whenever he so much as _thought_ of feeling emotion had to have a reason, as did the shadows that danced in the corners of his eyes, and the ghostly figures he knew were dead but looked real all the same. He suspected most people would have panicked by now and fallen into a cycle of agony.

Unfortunately for Kariya, Tokiomi was determined to give up on any painful emotion. He was looking at himself in the mirror again, the feeling of disgust having passed. He was hideous now, but no one cared; for all their mocking, his two ‘companions’ probably wouldn’t give a shit if he just offed himself right this moment. Instead, he laughed softly, the right side of his mouth lifting upwards while the left remained fixed in permanent indifference.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

A different trail of thought rose in his mind. He could almost see Aoi now, entering the room and rushing to him, concern plastered over her face.

_What happened to you, dear?! Please, let me do something! Do you want me to get anything from the basement?_

It’s alright, he’d reply. She was so kind, so sweet. He could remember how she straightened his ties and fussed with his clothes, and how she’d offer help in any of his studies, even if she could only hand a gem to him. That was how she always was, cleaning up after all of his messes.

And that’s what he was always good for. Making them. Sakura, Gilgamesh, Kirei…

Suddenly, he began to care far more about the mangled face that stared back at him. His hand balled up into a tightly clenched fist, and his brows furrowed. It was _mocking_ him. After all, what else did this face stand for but Kariya’s own attempts to bring these emotions up, and show him what type of person he truly was?

He didn’t need reminders.

His expression distorted with anger, and he summoned his staff. With a sound akin to a growl, he raised the weapon up, and then down on the mirror -- down on his bloodstained beard, down on the lesions, down on the raised, vein-like markings pulsating over his face. The glass shattered, and his body was overcome with pain, the feeling of something chewing his insides and then crawling into them. The staff dissipated, and he doubled over, his hands pressing down on the counter for balance.

He looked up again. The mirror was broken, and now a thousand monstrous faces, eyes filled with both rage and shame, stared back at him. In the back of his head, he could hear a buzzing noise, far louder than usual. He hissed out a reply through clenched teeth.

“Shut up, Kariya.”

“What did you do now?” The presence of another voice just after his own caught him off-guard, and he turned to see his Master staring at him, much like one would stare at a misbehaving pet.

Tokiomi’s response was a silent glare. He expected that Gilgamesh would berate him or demand a response – the man was always more concerned about the state of his property than anything else – but it wasn’t as if he cared anymore. Surprisingly, the response was a bit different. The look on his face contained amusement more than anything. “Did you get tired of your own ugly mug? You know, it might be better to just keep you on a leash.” He chuckled at his own joke, and Tokiomi couldn’t help but stiffen up a bit. For all that he knew, his Master could be serious.

However, Gilgamesh left soon after. Tokiomi watched him, waiting for him to fade out of sight and that nigh unbearable tension to dissipate. It did, but as it emptied the room, something else surged up in him instead. The feeling rushed up his body, and he barely had time to turn back to the sink just as it balled in his throat and surged up, pushing out of his mouth. He choked and coughed as thick blood poured from his mouth, bringing with it chunks of gore and viscera and was that a _tooth_? The empty throbbing on his upper jaw confirmed it. He heaved out some more, his body flaring up in pain with each forward motion.

After a few more seconds it finished, and he was left to stare at the disgusting red sludge as it drained from the sink slowly.

And then he cried. His good eye watered up, and tears began to stream down his face, while his bad eye leaked out a thin trail of pink liquid. He began to sob, but didn’t bother restraining the noise, as he might have in his past life. What did it matter if he let out unattractive cries, and let his bodily fluids run down his face freely?

It didn’t. It didn’t matter. There was nothing to care about anymore. He had nothing.

Nothing except for the mirror, reflecting a thousand mangled faces back at him.


End file.
